


Why The Streams Are Bitter

by YoungMrKusuma



Series: The Naekawa Project [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Angst, F/M, Fluff, I'M GONNA MAKE THIS SHIP SAIL IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO, The Originals are Naegi's Parents, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5960530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungMrKusuma/pseuds/YoungMrKusuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After several months of dating, Fukawa's off to meet her boyfriend's family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why The Streams Are Bitter

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. Fuck, I've got a lot to say about this one. Sometime in June 2015, (Yes, you read that right; _June_ ) I had started working on this piece, blissfully unaware that I had inadvertently started playing a game with myself called "6000 words to nowhere". The unfortunate result of which was this; a directionless, galumphing mess of a story that grew far longer than I originally intended. The extreme length of time I spent trying to complete it was thanks largely in part to severe bouts of Writer's Block, obligations at work and the fact that I was juggling a number of other stories (non-fanficty ones) at the time.
> 
> I'll come right out and say it: This story is flawed. The plot seems to meander around in circles and not a whole lot actually happens. Yet I don't think that it's without its charms. It seems to work as a character study, for one thing. And in spite of all the agony it caused me, trying to get the thing out on page, I honestly had a lot of fun writing it. It would have been a tremendous shame for it to go unpublished, in my opinion, so here it is, in all its glory (or lack thereof).
> 
> Now, onto more important things. I intend to keep a very loose chronology for all stories associated with The Naekawa Project, but this particular tale takes place after ["Luckless, Lonely Lit Girl"](http://wwwhttp://archiveofourown.org/works/3906091). Be sure to read that one first. The names and details about Naegi's parents are also made up, since we don't really know anything about them at this point.
> 
> For everyone who was waiting for me to produce something new (and there probably aren't that many of you), I apologise sincerely for the long wait and I hope that, at the very least, it was worth it. Young Mr Kusuma loves you all.
> 
> <3
> 
>  
> 
> (Link to Tumblr post [here](http://youngmrkusuma.tumblr.com/post/139650174193/the-naekawa-project-part-3-why-the-streams-are))

 

"T-They're going to laugh at me," Fukawa said.

"No, they're not."

"Yes, they are! E-Everyone laughs at me!!" In a softer voice: "You're the only one who doesn't..."

Naegi, who had been leading the way, let out a sigh. He and Fukawa had been going out for months now, and he still didn't know how to deal with her whenever she got like this. "Why would they laugh at you?"

"I don't know..." She looked down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers. "Same reason as e-everyone else, I suppose. N-Nobody ever likes me."

He felt his heart squeeze at that. "That's not true. I like you."

She gave a nervous chuckle. "That's because you're a crazy, stupid boy with horrible taste in women."

Naegi smiled. He'd been with her long enough to know she meant no harm by that. It was the closest thing to a compliment he'd ever get from her.

"You don't seem to mind crazy, stupid boys all that much, though." He grinned at her.

She responded by walking closer to him and wrapping her arms around his bicep. She was smiling.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said.

He was bringing her over to meet his family. And although he didn't show it, Naegi was as anxious as she was. They decided on this about two weeks earlier – not because either of them particularly wanted to do this, but because his parents were insisting on it. Fukawa was nervous because she was, well... _Fukawa_. That was just how she always was. And Naegi was nervous, well... _also_ because she was Fukawa. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed about dating her; he was just worried that she’d start yelling and accusing his family of secretly hating her at first sight or something. Which, in his defence, was exactly what happened every time he introduced one of his friends to her.

If she did that in front of his parents, it could mean trouble. Especially in the case of his mother, who had taken an _extremely_ keen interest as to who her son was dating. If this went badly...

_I don’t want you hanging around that girl,_ he imagined her saying. _She’s no good for you._

But he had some faith; if he could keep Fukawa’s negativity at bay, he was sure things would turn out fine. He had seen the side of her that wasn’t burdened by paranoia and self-loathing. In these moments of emotional clarity, she was not so different from anyone else. Just a little bit quiet and maybe a little bit sarcastic. She could be nice if she cared to be.

"Just relax, okay?" He told Fukawa. "Everything will be alright."

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "What if I mess it up and they end up h-hating me? What if they decide that they don’t want us to see each other anymore?"

Naegi shrugged. "I’ll keep seeing you anyway."

She bit her lip and said nothing for a while.

"Th-That’s not really the point, though..." She said. "They're your parents. I don't want them to hate me."

For Fukawa, this had been the source of her dread for the past two weeks. Even without taking into account her absolutely dismal social skills, there were so many ways this could all go wrong (In her own mind, anyway). She had no idea what Naegi's parents were really like, and that left room for some frightening possibilities. What if they weren't as nice as he was? What if they thought she was ugly? Or creepy? Or beneath them? What if she did something stupid or thoughtless and offended them?

Her mind had gone on its usual rampage, playing on her fears, conjuring up nightmare scenario after nightmare scenario one after the other.

_What if they've heard the rumours people spread about me at school? What if I embarrass myself in front of them?_

Worse, what if they were as bad as her own family? She didn't think that this last one was likely, since Naegi didn't seem like someone who carried any sort of emotional baggage (Once, long before Fukawa and him were even friends, much less dating, she had thought to herself: _You wouldn't be so fucking happy-go-lucky if you had to put up with everything I did, you little shit._ It was a jealous bitter thought, one that filled her with guilt to this day), but there was no real way to tell, was there? Could be, Naegi bore his burdens better than she did and hid it behind a smile. Maybe that was why he was so good to her. Maybe that–

_No,_ the rational side of her argued. _You're thinking too much into things. Naegi wouldn't bring you to meet them if they're anything like your parents. He wouldn't want to see you get hurt that way. This is ridiculous._

Her demons argued back. _You don't know that, you stupid girl! Even if his parents are alright, that doesn't mean you won't fuck this up like you always do! What if they think I’m an idiot What if they think I'm weird What if they What if they What if they_

She felt Naegi squeeze her arm softly. When she turned to him, the look in his eyes said he knew exactly what was happening in her head.

“You’re doing it again,” he said.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to.

“It hurts, you know,” he said after a while, an undercurrent of sadness in his tone. “Every time you do that to yourself. It hurts me every time I see you do it.”

A flare of annoyance. “I’m not doing it because I want to!” She snapped, harsher than intended. “Don’t you th-think I’d stop myself if I could!?” Naegi flinched. “If it bothers you so d-damn much to see it, why don’t you just piss off like e-everyone else and leave me a–“

The wounded expression on his face stole her anger away. Only now did she realise what she almost said.

“I...I’m sorry...” she said, ashamed. “I-I didn’t mean t-that. I was just... I'm sorry.”

“I know.” He gave her a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

That pained look didn't leave his eyes, though. It made her feel even worse. _Nice fucking job, Touko_ , she cursed herself. Beside her, Naegi breathed out through his teeth. His palms had gotten sweaty.

“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I’m kinda nervous about this whole thing myself.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. Fukawa let the idea sink in, what that likely meant about her chances. They were both silent for a moment.

“Well...” she said. “I guess we’re pretty much screwed, then.”

They looked at each other, then burst out laughing, drawing the attention of passers-by, several of whom were schoolmates. This was most likely going to end up as more fuel for the school rumour mill – people were already talking about what a bizarre couple they made (snickering about it, in fact) – but neither of them could really help it. What else was there to do, after all, in a situation like this?

It made her feel a little bit better at least, though she didn’t quite know why. She let out a resigned sigh.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she said.

*

Several hours earlier.

“I w-won’t be back f-for dinner tonight.”

No response.

“D-did you hear me, dad? I said I won’t b-be back for…”

An impatient grunt. “Yes, yes, I heard you.” He didn’t look up from the newspaper he was reading. “I think we’ll manage just fine without your glorious presence for one day, Touko.”

She felt something inside her burn. Fukawa had borne her father’s scorn for years and only now did she dare to hate him for it. He wouldn’t hit her anymore – not so long as those fat royalty checks kept coming in through the mail – so there was no longer a reason to fear him. That didn’t stop him from voicing his contempt for her every single day, though.

_As soon as I graduate_ , she thought. _As soon as I graduate, I’ll leave this place and never look back._

On the other end of the dining table, Mom number 2 smirked. “Off to mope and wax philosophical in the library again, Touko-chan?” Her words were dripping with venom. “Or have you finally decided to get a social life?”

She gritted her teeth. “I-It’s none of y-your damn business, but if you m-must know, I’ll be spending the day with my boyfriend.”

Fukawa didn’t wait for a reply. She grabbed her schoolbag and strutted out. Mom number 1 looked up from her congee as she went. On her face was a look of pure disbelief.

“She has a _boyfriend_?” Fukawa heard as she opened the front door.

Her father snorted. “Who cares? Probably just another fantasy of hers.”

*

If there was anything that Fukawa could have said about that one day, it’d probably be that it was one of the most surreal experiences of her life. Before they started dating, there had always been something about Naegi that was honestly a little unnerving. He was just so _normal_. As far as looks went, he was rather plain and unremarkable. He didn’t have any interesting pursuits or hobbies to speak of. He didn’t excel at any one subject and scored pretty standard grades (well, okay, his grasp of Classical Literature was utterly _atrocious_ , but by god she was going to fix that or die trying). For the lack of a better and more sensible term, Naegi was normal to the point of abnormality. He was so much like the throwaway side characters she wrote in her stories she could have sworn he crawled right out of one.

This was something she’d gotten used to in all the time they spent together. His average looks. His average voice. His average taste in movies and books and clothes and music (but not women, of course). After a while, she had stopped noticing it all together.

Then they got to his house. The most average building on the most average street in the most average neighbourhood she’d ever seen. And she began to wonder, like she used to, if there was such a thing as _pathological normality_.

Surreal or not, however, the experience was most certainly not a bad one. Fishing out a key ring from his pocket, Naegi led her through the front door, kicked off his shoes and brought her into the dining room where both of his parents were seated. Fukawa was taken aback for a moment. While Makoto’s father wasn’t anything to write home about – a tall, pleasant-looking man with forgettable features – his mother was surprisingly beautiful. Long, wavy brown hair framed a smooth, perfectly-symmetrical face and her eyes, much like her son’s, had a soft, gentle quality to them.

“Hi Mom! Hi Dad!” Naegi greeted them cheerfully.

“Hi sweetie,” his mother said, resting her hand on his shoulder before turning to Fukawa with a polite, but wary smile. “You must be Fukawa-san. I’m Emiko Naegi.” She bowed her head slightly.

Fukawa felt her breath catch in her throat as Emiko gave her an appraising gaze. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm in her chest. This beautiful woman was _staring_ at her and _Oh god,_ _She’s judging you she’s judging you she’sjudgingyou-_

_Stop that!_ She dug her nails into her palm. _You’re making this worse!_

“Um…” she managed, trembling. “It-It’s very nice t-to meet you!”

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” Emiko Naegi-san’s smile softened and, perhaps sensing her nervousness, became more genuine. “You look lovely, dear.”

Heat rushed to her face. Lovely? _Her?_ Fukawa thought about the simple dress she was wearing, and how she’d decided to leave her hair untied for today. Had it really made that much difference? She never believed it whenever Naegi told her she was pretty, but to hear it from someone like Emiko...

_they’re lying don’t listen to them they’re just trying to make you feel better trick you and then laugh at you for being stupid enough to believe_

Naegi's father chuckled beside her, derailing the train of thought. "Now look what you've done, Emi, you've embarrassed the poor girl!" He bowed his head to Fukawa as well. "I'm Toshiro Naegi, by the way. Nice to meet you."

She returned the greeting as best she could, forcing back the tide of words that threatened to spill from the back of her throat; words about what they must have really been thinking about her. _Just breathe_ , Fukawa told herself. _If you explode now, they’ll hate you for sure._

They had her sit down by the dining table, Naegi alongside her, where a spread of traditional dishes, a steamer and four bowls of rice had been laid out. It smelt good. The four of them spent the next hour getting to know each other better over dinner.

If nothing else, Fukawa’s fears about Naegi’s family being just as awful as hers were at least somewhat allayed after the first twenty minutes. Toshiro-san, she learnt, was every bit as amiable as her boyfriend; perhaps a little more so. He had a soothing voice, was quick to make little jokes, and was always finding some way to keep the conversation going. There was much of that same almost tangible _warmth_ radiating from him that Naegi seemed to have inherited. He even had the same smile as Naegi.

As for his mother – who Fukawa sensed was a bit uncertain of this girl who had somehow stolen her son’s heart – Emiko-san had started off somewhat cold, though her kinder side did begin to show as the conversation progressed. She maintained a friendliness that was just enough to be considered civil, until a certain fact about Fukawa had been made privy to her.

“You never told me she was an _authoress_ , Makoto-kun!” She gushed, clearly impressed. “And at such a young age, too!”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I mentioned it, Mom.”

“Well, you said she was a _writer_. I thought you meant she was good with school essays, blogs, that sort of thing.” She turned to Fukawa, whose cheeks were reddening again. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognise your name right away! The young ladies at my book club talk about you all the time! That novel of yours, ‘ _So Lingers the Ocean_ ’? They can go on and on about how much they love it for hours! I can never seem to get my hands on a copy of it myself, though. The local Kinokuniya always runs out of stock before I get a chance to buy it.”

“O-oh,” Fukawa fiddled with her chopsticks. “Um, I can speak with my p-publisher… get you a copy, if you’d like...”

"You could?" Emiko clapped her hands together in an appreciative gesture. "That would be so kind of you."

Beside her, Toshiro tutted in mock-disapproval, shaking his head for dramatic effect. “Taking advantage of your son’s girlfriend? That’s a new low, Emi.”

She jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “Oh hush, you.”

Of course, it wasn’t entirely smooth sailing. Having gotten excited at the prospect of meeting a romance novelist, Emiko had gone on a tangent about her favourite stories of the genre. This was perfectly fine, except that one of her favourites was Kaori Shibuya’s _Moonstar_.

_Ugh._

“That Kaori Shibuya is such a wordsmith,” she said wistfully. “Don’t you agree, Fukawa-san?”

Fukawa had to try _very_ hard to keep the disdain from her face. She kept her already awkward smile firmly in place.

_Kaori Shibuya? That_ hack _? Are you kidding me? How could anyone possibly like that woman’s pretentious doggerel? Have you no taste?? The book's an_ abomination _! It’s bad enough that they actually tried to turn that shitty novel into a shitty movie; they even nominated her for an award! For writing that codswallop!!_

Had it been anyone else or a different situation, Fukawa would have launched into a rant by now. But she held her tongue. Things were, miraculously, going well right now. If she screwed this up, she'd never forgive herself.

"I-uh can't really say f-for sure.

_her characters are utterly reprehensible they've got as much chemistry as two pieces of plywood how could anyone not see this are you BLIND_

"I've never r-read any of her work." She said. Then tried to change the subject at once. “Makoto-kun said that h-he had a sister, an Omaru-chan?”

“Komaru,” Naegi interjected beside her, swallowing a mouthful of rice and miso soup. “She’ll be back a little later, she’s got extra classes to- oh, speak of the devil.”

There was the sound of keys turning in a lock, followed by a soft patter of footsteps. A few moments later, a young woman in a school uniform stepped into the room, a bag slung over her shoulder. There was a look of surprise on her face when she saw them in the room. It quickly turned to excitement.

“Ah! I totally forgot we were doing this today!” The girl said.

Komaru Naegi favoured her mother more than her brother did in terms of appearance, though the two of them still bore some resemblance to each other. She was good-looking, but not striking. Her hair was cut in a fashionable bob, with a wayward cowlick poking from her head like her brother’s. As always, Fukawa had been preparing for the worst; Makoto’s sister was probably going to be like one of those stuck-up bimbos at school who enjoyed making her life miserable. She was going to take one look at this shabby, neurotic wretch and laugh in her face or turn her nose up at her. Instead, Komaru practically skipped across the room to meet her and shook her hand with both of hers, grinning sunnily the whole time. She complemented Fukawa on her appearance ( _they’re just being polite, it doesn’t actually mean anything_ ) and when Emiko mentioned that she was an authoress, Komaru got excited as well.

“Geez, you really lucked out this time, Onii-chan!” Komaru chirped. Then smirked at her brother. “She is _soo_ out of your league.”

Makoto laughed and stuck his tongue out at her. His sister did the same. Was this what he got to come home to everyday? No wonder he had such a cheery outlook on life. He got to return every day to a place where he was loved and welcomed. Unsettling as the normality was, this was a good home. No drama, no abuse. And she began to wonder. If she'd been born into a family like his – a _real_ family – then maybe she wouldn't be so bitter all the time. Maybe she’d turn out different. Maybe she wouldn't be so–

_wouldn't be so fucking happy-go-lucky if you had to put up with everything I did you little sh_

She dug her nails in again, disgusted with herself for having ever entertained the idea.

Under the table, Naegi's hand crept onto hers. He was looking at her with concern. "What's wrong?" He mouthed at her silently. His parents' attentions were directed at Komaru at that moment, who had scooped herself a bowlful of rice from the steamer and was apparently talking about her day. Fukawa shook her head and gave him a weak smile.

"It's nothing. B-Bad thoughts. I'm alright." She whispered.

“You sure?”

She nodded, then turned back to face his parents before they noticed. Don’t want them getting the wrong idea. Naegi’s hand lingered over hers for several moments, then drifted away.

By this point of the visit, Makoto had stopped worrying about his parents and how they felt about Fukawa. He could tell; they liked her. Mom, in particular, was very taken with her. As for Dad, well… he never needed to worry about Dad. Dad liked everyone. He was more concerned about Fukawa herself. She’d been able to hold together so far without launching into one of her (Rants? Tirades? Hissy fits?), but she looked horribly uncomfortable here. Socialising wasn’t her strong suit, and he would rather have put this ‘meet the parents’ thing off till after she was more comfortable around people. It was probably making her miserable, the poor girl.

He felt a familiar sense of frustration at his inability to help her. His girlfriend’s anxiety was something he sympathised with, but not something he understood. It occurred to him now that in spite of how close they had gotten over the past several months, there were still a lot of things about Fukawa that he didn’t get. Maybe that made him a lousy boyfriend, he didn’t know.

_I really hope not…_ He harboured doubts. He had been a little overzealous about helping her be more outgoing, after all. He had brought her to meet his friends, who he had been so sure would hit it off with her immediately. It was a huge misstep. Interacting with others was more difficult for her than he had imagined. When she wasn’t stuttering or tripping over her words, she was yelling, spewing vitriol at them for slights that weren’t there, for things they didn’t mean, say or feel.

His friends were willing to be good sports about it, but Fukawa had beaten herself up over it by the end of each encounter. He had been inconsiderate of her feelings when he came up with the idea. He thought that he could rid her of her shyness and anxiety through simple exposure. He had ended up hurting her indirectly instead.

_I was only trying to help her,_ a part of him said. And Fukawa never did blame him for it.

_Nonsense_ , he fired back. _That was selfishness, plain and simple. Just because talking is fun and easy for you…_

He learnt too late that there was a fundamental difference between extroverts like him and introverts like her. A quick trip to Google had solved that issue. Talking was anything but fun and easy for Fukawa. It was a chore for her at best and torture at worst. He only wished he had looked the topic up sooner. He would have known to take things slower then. One step at a time.

_It’s a miracle she’s still with you, you jerk,_ he thought.

He was going to make it up to her later, he decided. For now, he had to make this visit as painless on her as possible.

“…two start dating each other, Onii-chan?”

Naegi snapped out of his reverie. “Huh?”

Komaru repeated her question patiently. “How did you two start dating each other?”

_Oh_. _That._ The million dollar question. Everyone who knew they were a couple asked it. Seemed innocent enough, except that Fukawa always got agitated and refused to say anything every time it came up. He didn’t understand why until one day Fukawa pointed out to him bitterly that what they _really_ wanted to ask was “ _How did a nice guy like you end up with a"_ – quote – _"harpy like her??_ ” Naegi had believed she was overreacting until the rumours at school started.

Komaru didn’t mean it like that, of course. But with Fukawa’s propensity to assume the worst, his sister may have unwittingly stepped on a landmine.

Which made it more surprising that Fukawa answered before he had the chance.

*

Half a year ago. One month after the end of summer.

“W-well?” She said, hands bunching into her skirt. “What do you want? I’m v-very busy, right now.”

This was a blatant lie, of course. Fukawa hadn’t been busy for quite some time. She sent in her latest work to her publisher not long ago – that meant that she was done with writing for the moment. As far as school was concerned, the deadlines for her assignments (already half done) were several weeks away. She had plenty of free time, but not much to do with it, nor anyone to spend it with.

Naegi, who had asked to speak to her after class, scratched the back of his head and looked bashful. “Um, I was kinda wondering… that if maybe you’re free this weekend… whether you’d like to, um…” His voice tapered off.

“Whether I’d what? Speak up.” This was something new; Naegi was flustered around her.

“Whether you’d go out with me.” He finished. It took a while for her to process what he’d just said.

Growing more flustered by her silence, Naegi began to ramble. “I-It’s okay if you don’t want to! I-ah, I don’t want to force you or anything!”

Her shoulders became tense. She turned left and right, scanning her surroundings for anyone who might have been hiding in a corner, waiting to jump out and laugh at her. No one else was there. And since Naegi was the one asking, this probably wasn’t a joke.

That hadn’t stopped her from worrying, though.

“This… This isn’t a prank, is it?” Her voice was soft, fearful. Fukawa would never admit this out loud, but it would have hurt her very badly if the answer – from _Naegi_ , of all people – was yes.

“What? No! Never!” He appeared shocked that she’d even consider the notion. “You know I’d never do to you, Fukawa-san.”

Fair enough. She could trust him that much, at least.

“A bet, then,” she pointed an accusing finger at him. “You l-lost a bet or something, didn’t you!? I saw you with Celes the other day. Either that or you’re t-trying to make someone else jealous! It must be that air-head with balloons on her chest or that Kirigiri-san you’re always talking to! And you’re j-just trying to make use of me to do it!”

He held his hands up defensively. “That’s not true!” They spent a good five minutes going back and forth on the subject, by the end of which, Fukawa was only partially convinced.

“Why me, then?” She asked, feeling a mix of confusion and shame. “I’m not a-attractive in the least. There’s no way that you or anyone else could possibly like me…”

Naegi shook his head sadly. “That’s a horrible thing to say about yourself, Fukawa-san. Why would you even believe that?” She didn’t answer. Naegi should have known why. She was ugly. Smelly. Repugnant. Everyone said so. There was no word in any written language in existence that could properly describe just how-

But wait! If he was asking, then did that mean he disagreed? That he didn’t find her repulsive? And, now that she thought about it, if he really did want to go out with her (assuming this wasn’t a prank), then didn’t that mean that he… _liked_ her?

Naegi shifted around uncomfortably, a hopeful expression still on his face. It reminded her of a lost puppy begging to be taken home with her. This was the first and only time a boy acted like that around her. Maybe she should give this a chance.

Unable to help the smile on her lips, nor the persistent flush on her face, she said:

*

“I said ‘Alright, I-I’ll go out with you, if you r-really want.’” Fukawa turned to Makoto fondly. “But you better not try anything funny.”

Everyone in the room had been held captive as she recounted the story; Fukawa left none of the details out. Everything, from what she’d been thinking at that moment – her fears and insecurities, to her surprise that someone – _anyone_ – could fall for her, had been included. How she managed such a feat without getting too embarrassed to continue, she didn’t know. Somehow, the words had been coaxed out of her, shaky and uneasy.

Nobody said anything for a time. There was a palpable tension in the air until Komaru broke the silence.

“So… did he?”

“Hmm?”

“Did he try anything funny?”

An involuntary giggle escaped both her and Naegi. Fukawa shook her head. “No, he didn’t.” Openly this time, Makoto reached for her hand again and she entwined her fingers with his. “He was a perfect gentleman.”

Toshiro cleared his throat. “It sounds to me like you’ve had a rough time at school, Fukawa-san, if your immediate assumption was that he was trying to trick you.” She nodded. “Do you get bullied a lot in class?”

“I used to. It’s not so b-bad now.” She decided, apropos of nothing, to tell them about her first crush, about the boy who she thought was her friend. Who, in actuality, couldn’t stand her and had put up the love letter she’d written up on the school noticeboard to humiliate her.

“That’s terrible!” Emiko said. She looked about ready to start crying herself.

“I-It wasn’t all bad, though.” Fukawa said. “T-That was how I first got started with writing. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it never h-happened.” The memory of this event was still painful to this day – time had done nothing to blunt its edge – but in a lot of ways, it had been a blessing in disguise. She had learnt something important about herself that afternoon, standing there in front of Ogata-Sensei's desk, eyes still red and cloudy from crying. _You have a way with words_ , her teacher had told her. Her first novel had been published just two years after that day. The awards, royalty checks and rave reviews came soon enough. Things began improving with her life, little by little, all thanks to her writing. It did fuck-all for her self-esteem, but she wasn't about to complain.

It also made the situation at home far more bearable.

_As soon as I graduate,_ she thought, and briefly considered talking about her parents. Then decided against it. That was her burden to bear, not theirs. Besides, it wouldn't be long now before she could be free from those bastards anyway – no reason to rock the boat. She'd get herself a nice cosy apartment somewhere far away from them with the money she had saved up. Her royalties would see her through. She'd live alone, just her and her stories. She could share the place with Naegi, if he didn't mind having her. She certainly didn't.

Or maybe she’d find a place here, an average building on the most average street in the most average neighbourhood she’d ever seen. Close to these people. Close to Naegi.

“I never would have guessed that you’ve had to endure all of that, Fukawa-san,” Emiko said. Her voice carried a twinge of both pity and, oddly enough, a kind of respect. She eyed her son. "I certainly hope _you_ weren't a part of the bullying."

More giggling. "He wasn't." Fukawa smiled. Then added: "H-he's the only real friend I ever had."

Naegi was pouting. "You know, I would have thought you'd have more faith in me, Mom."

*

Dinner ended not long after, the rest of the session consisting mainly of pleasant conversation in the living room. Again, there was that sense of surrealism, like she could knock down one of the walls of Naegi’s home and find behind it a director and his camera crew prepping for the next scene. Like she had stumbled onto the set of a clichéd soap opera. Not that she was complaining, of course. Ordinarily, by this time of day, Fukawa would have locked herself away in her room while her parents gathered in front of the TV, Moms 1 and 2 making passive-aggressive comments at each other. This, for all its dreamlike banality, was infinitely more preferable.

She’d have to go back home eventually, though. It was this knowledge that soured her mood. For what may have been the umpteenth time, she felt a twinge of jealousy towards Naegi, then guilt. He might hate her if he ever knew what had crossed her mind. He might even-

_Enough!_ She crushed the idea before it could take root. _I’m having a perfectly good evening right now. I’m not about to let you ruin it with your bullshit!_

And it _was_ a good evening. She hadn’t made a fool of herself. Naegi’s family didn’t laugh at her. And while the possibility that they might change their mind about her was still very real, her relationship with her boyfriend was probably in no danger right now. Probably. It was nothing short of a damn miracle.

A dull ache in the centre of her palm. She looked down and saw four red crescent-shaped marks on her hand where she’d been digging her nails in. She hadn’t realized she’d been doing it so hard. The pain seemed to go right into the bone.

“That’s not a good habit, Fukawa-san.” Komaru remarked beside her.

“I k-know…” she said. “I’m not doing it on purpose…” Her fingers began curling in again before she stopped herself. “It happens whenever I get nervous.” _And whenever the voices won’t shut up._

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this,” Komaru said, “but you seem to be nervous all the time, Fukawa-san.”

“Heh.” There was a trace of bitterness in that laugh. “I suppose I do.”

To the left of Komaru, Toshiro-san’s expression suddenly became one of concern. “We’re not making you feel uncomfortable, are we?”

Fukawa shook her head. "That's not it. I'm not very g-good with p-people." She poked a thumb in Naegi's direction. "Just ask him. I’m even worse at school."

“Yeah.” He gave a sympathetic nod. “She barely ever talks to anybody there. Except for me.”

Komaru tilted her head to the side. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Fukawa looked down, ashamed. “O-of course I do. I’ve always felt lonely. But I don’t know how to…” She struggled to find the words. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

_But there’s more to it than just that, isn’t there, Touko?_

Yes. Yes, there was. There was the paranoia. The gnawing sensation/conviction that everyone thought she’d be better off dead. That the world hated her and was therefore only deserving of her hatred. She felt the same need for companionship like everyone else, but the idea that nobody liked her… It made her angry. It always did. It wounded her pride in a fundamental way that no one else could possibly understand. Fukawa might have been lonely, but to be friends with people who made fun of her behind her back? She’d rather eat glass.

A Cherubic grin found its way onto Komaru’s lips. “Well, in that case, _I’ll_ be your friend, Fukawa-san!”

“I…” Fukawa began, then looked at Komaru, startled. “Wait, _really_?”

“Sure thing!”

For a brief instant, Fukawa was certain she had misheard her. “B-but you h-hardly even know me!” Her heart raced with foolish hope. “You really don’t mind… being friends with someone like me?”

“Mmhmm!” Komaru nodded enthusiastically.

Fukawa’s eyes darted around the room; surely this was some kind of trick! But there were no mocking expressions, no concealed laughter, no scorn or malice. Everyone – Toshiro-san, Emiko-san, Makoto-kun – was smiling in silent support. It seemed that Komaru was being sincere. For some unfathomable reason, this girl really did want to be her friend.

Just as she had on the day Naegi asked her out, she felt a surge of emotions in her chest, a blush and a smile creep across her face.

“You’re strange, y-you know that? Wanting to be friends with s-someone like me.” She turned to her boyfriend. “Your _entire_ _family_ is strange.”

Naegi chuckled. “Yeah, I like you too, Touko-chan.”

When the time came to leave, she did her best not to show her disappointment. Pretty soon, it was going to be back to more bile and venom with her pathetic excuse for a family, but she tried not to think about it. Might as well enjoy her good fortune while it lasted.

"You sure you don't want an escort home?" Naegi asked.

"Y-Yes, I'm sure." She said. "I'll call you tonight, okay?"

"Okay." He beamed at her. They might have leaned in for a kiss goodbye just then had his parents not been watching.

Toshiro-san moved forward to shake her hand, Emiko-san in tow. "Goodbye, Fukawa-san. It really was very nice meeting you."

Timidly: "L-likewise."

"Come visit us again soon!" Emiko said. From behind her, Komaru waved cheerfully. Fukawa said her own goodbyes, and turned to leave.

"What a nice girl she is." Fukawa heard as she went, from Emiko-san. She felt touched. As soon as she had the time, she was going to speak to her publisher, Fukawa decided. Emiko-san deserved a proper, hardcover copy of her book. Perhaps with a handwritten message and signature to go along with it.

As they watched her leave, Emiko-san put a hand her son's shoulder. She grinned sardonically when Makoto turned to look at her.

"You, young man, are going to be in a lot of trouble if you ever break her heart."


End file.
